Dr Strangesize or:
by GirlX2
Summary: ...How I learned to Stop Worrying and Write more Crack!fic." Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter One.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products. Strong H/W friendship.

A/N: This fic was born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to one of my 'usual' plotline without repeating myself (not an easy task). Remember, comments are love. :p

-

-

"All this was because you wanted to lose some weight and were too lazy to exercise? You're not even that pudgy!"

"I would have if I'd had the time, House, and that's not the issue!"

"No, your overwhelming stupidity is the issue. What kind of doctor takes herbal remedies?"

"Hoodia has been shown to be effective. It was the…additional stuff that caused the problem."

"You don't even know what was in it?!"

"I know what it was, it just sounded like padding!"

"Okay, so what 'padding' caused this?"

"Well there was oil of wild rose, beeswax, garlic, and…sacramental liquid."

"HOLY WATER?! You took something with holy water in it?! What kind of Jew are you?"

Wilson groaned and buried his face in his hands. This wasn't going well at all.

"House, I didn't care about the holy water, I just wanted the hoodia, and it was reasonably priced for it's size."

"You got this at what store, Spells-R-Us? It sounds like a new age cure-all."

"It was at the health store on third street."

"I was joking before, but it's true. Your stupidity knows no bounds." House growled.

"Okay, we've established it was a bad idea, so can we get past that and figure out a way to fix the REAL problem?!" Wilson broke into a shout.

"Let me see the bottle first." House held his hand out.

Wilson fumbled in his jacket momentarily before finding the bottle and the sheet of instructions it had come with.

"Thank you for your purchase of Nature's Way Reducing Tonic, the finest weight-loss product available on the market, yadda yadda…" House scanned the directions. "Okay, it says to take no more than one tablespoon at a time. You didn't exceed that?"

"Yes. I read the directions very carefully. I'm not an idi--"

House flipped the paper over. "You missed a side."

"I--What?"

"According to this, you're supposed to dilute the solution with distilled water before drinking it."

"…How much?"

"One tablespoon of water for every milliliter of tonic."

"What?"

"So you got, roughly…fifteen times the recommended dose." House calculated quickly. "Hm. I didn't know health stores had bulk sections"

"I couldn't have missed something that important!" Wilson snatched the paper from him and scanned it himself. "…Oh God."

"I guess that explains your transformation into the Incredible Shrinking Oncologist."

"House, I'm not shrinking. That's insane."

"Okay, so why are you suddenly five foot ten?"

"I--"

"That's what I thought." House grinned smugly.

"There's no way what was in that bottle could have caused this." Wilson replied, pacing House's office nervously. "It's just a coincidence."

"Obviously. I vote either a coma fantasy or a sci-fi plotline born of the writers strike." House offer dryly, watching his friend.

"It's probably scoliosis; my spine could be bending. Or fallen arches."

"Neither of which explain the sudden onset nature. Or your loose pants." House replied. "That may be due to your terminal boinking of the nursing staff, though."

Wilson shot a sharp glare at House. After a moment of staring directly into the other man's chin, he adjusted his gaze, now looking up at his friend.

"That's interesting, huh?"

"Are you going to help me take an x-ray or not?" Wilson demanded, hands on his hips.

"Okay, let's head down to the clinic." House nodded. Whatever was causing this (House's vote was scoliosis) probably wasn't anything serious, but it was fun watching Wilson panic over it. It had taken the most gentle of prods before he'd admitted to using the tonic. Wilson was such a guilt-magnet, it transcended things that he didn't even need to feel guilty about. Stupid, yes, but not guilty.

Wilson pocketed the bottle and instructions before following House out of his office. "I can trust you won't tell anyone about this."

"Why in the world would you think that? This is primo blackmail material."

"Because if you do, I'll let it slip about your lust for the new nurse in peds. The one born with a penis." Wilson's expression had become distinctly smug.

"It was a fleeting attraction, and c'mon, she's a knockout!"

"Okay, so you're only after the pretty guys, I see."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about."

"That's not what you said last night."

The two doctors tried their best to keep straight faces as they walked down the halls, continuing the quip-war.

-

An hour later, the joviality had vanished. Wilson's X-Ray had revealed a perfectly normal spine. They were currently holed up in a clinic room, studying the x-rays. Wilson was sitting on the patient's table, due to lack of space than necessity. He'd assured House that he felt fine.

"Okay, so that leaves us with fallen arches." House reasoned. There could be some minor foot pain involved, but still, nothing debilitating. "Take off your shoes."

"Um…" Wilson's gaze slid to the floor. "Okay."

"What?"

"Nothing!" Wilson took his shoes off hurriedly and got to his feet.

House stared at him for a moment. "Get on the scale."

"Why--"

"You know why. Do it." House thwacked his cane against Wilson's leg.

"OW! Alright, I'm moving!" Wilson stepped onto the device.

House ignored the weight measurement, but quickly extended the height bar.

"According to this you're a whopping 5'8." He murmured after a moment.

"That's impossible." Wilson stepped off the scale. Moments ago, he'd been staring House in the chin--now, his eye line came just up to his neck.

"It is. Completely impossible. And yet, here we are." House limped back over to the table and grabbed one of Wilson's shoes. "But this may make it slightly more digestible."

"House, give me my shoe."

House ignored his friend and pulled a pad of blue gel from the shoe. "You've been wearing lifts."

"No. They're just thick gel inserts." Wilson sighed. "I use them on days I'm scheduled in the clinic."

"You don't have clinic duty today." House replied.

"Well…no, but--"

"You wore them because you knew something was wrong." House's eyes lit up.

"I didn't know, things just seemed…weird." Wilson muttered after a moment's silence.

"Oh my God. You really are shrinking."

This revelation was met with House breaking into near-hysterical laughter.

"It's not funny!"

"How…is this not funny?" House managed. There were actual tears rolling down his face, he was laughing so hard. "Jimmy Wilson, boy wonder oncologist, is rapidly becoming his own mini-me."

"House, I came to you--"

"Came to me and lied."

"I never lied." Wilson snapped. "I told you about the tonic and I told you about my clothes not fitting correctly."

"Lying by omission is still lying." House had stopped laughing. "You've seen what trouble it causes my patients."

Wilson, defeated, slumped onto one of the chairs. "Would you have believed me?"

"Probably not." House replied, tossing the shoe, sans insert, to him. "I suppose it's a moot point now. When did you notice something was off?"

"An hour or so after I took the tonic. Just before I left for work."

"Okay, and that was what, four hours ago?"

"Something like that."

"Roughly an inch per hour." House calculated quickly. "So, by five o'clock, that'll make you about five feet four inches. I don't think your lifts are going to hide that."

"What am I going to do?"

"I'd recommend going out and getting drunk before you can't see over the bar."

"I can't take off, we've got the director's meeting at four." Wilson ignored the joke.

"You're going to go like this?"

"If I don't show up I can get my new budget proposal passed. The Pediatric Oncology section really needs the extra money." Wilson shook his head.

"So you're going to show up like this and hope no one notices. Good plan."

"If you've got suggestions, I'd like to hear them."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

-

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Two.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

It took House an hour to get the supplies together, leaving Wilson with little more to do than try and alter his ever-loosening clothes. It was getting to the point of ludicrousness even to try--his collar gaped, even with his necktie pulled tight, his pants were dragging on the floor, and his shoes were slipping off his feet. He'd never make it thought the meeting without someone noticing something was wrong. And even if he did, that didn't solve the problem. By this time tomorrow he'd be far too small to show up at work.

They hadn't come up with any ideas for stopping or reversing the mystifying process, and it didn't seem likely to peter out on its own. Wilson was going to go to the health food shop as soon as the meeting was out. Maybe they'd have an antidote. There was no contact info on the bottle or the instructions.

House heaved his bulging backpack onto Wilson's desk. "Okay, I've got a temporary solution: stilts."

"Stilts." Wilson repeated skeptically as House dumped his bag out. Several pieces of wood spilled across the desk, along with twine, two large tin cans, glue, a screwdriver, gauze, and a number of foam pads.

"Homemade stilts. You pull a string through the tin cans and walk with them. I made them all the time when I was a kid." House replied.

"Being seen on stilts sort of defeats the purpose, House."

"You never like my ideas." House grumbled. "Well, we can glue the foam to your shoes. It won't be perfect, but you'll be closer to the right height."

"I'll try anything." Wilson got up and came to the other side of the desk. "Obviously."

House eyed him curiously for a moment. "This won't help you look any bigger, though. Your proportions are already way off, and those clothes aren't helping."

"I don't have anything smaller to wear."

"Maybe one of my shirts would fit you better." House suggested. "It'll be long, but it won't be as loose."

"Showing up in your 'Metallica 2000' tour tee-shirt isn't the best way to look inconspicuous. I'll just keep my lab coat on." Wilson replied.

"If anyone says anything you can claim it got switched in the laundry." House smirked.

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you? I'm your puzzle of the week."

"I'm not enjoying it so much as…relishing it."

"Big difference there."

"Hey, hiding the fact that you're shrinking is probably going to be way more fun than figuring out how to fix it."

"Assuming it can be fixed."

"One problem at a time. If we pull this off we can start worrying about everything else."

"Joy."

-

Wilson tried to ignore the double-takes his colleges gave him as he hurried to his seat. The foam definitely wasn't helping. They'd only been able to apply an inch of it. The shrinking had continued as House predicted, leaving him at 5'5 (or 5'7 with the foam and the gel inserts). He'd just have to get though this as quickly as possible, and leave before anyone had a real good look at him standing up.

He eased his chair to sit as high as it could, leaving his shoes barely able to brush the carpet.

'If I get though this it'll be a miracle.' He pretended to study his pediatric proposal.

"Okay, what are we discussing that is so important that I have to miss GenHop for it?" House burst in to the room. He'd agreed to try and distract people from Wilson by actually showing up for the meeting and being his usual charming self.

So far, so good.

"We're voting on budget proposals, House." Cuddy looked a bit surprised. She hadn't expected House to show up.

"Okay. 'My department needs more money.' Can I go now?"

"As long as you're here, you can vote on the other proposals. And it's your turn to take the minutes." Cuddy tossed a notepad to him.

"And you wonder why I avoid these things." House shot a venomous glare at her.

Wilson relaxed slightly as the meeting went forward. House made typically cutting remarks during each proposal ("A podiatry wing? What for, the three broken toes we get each year?" "Yes Jackson, I agree, with just $750,000 could keep your whole staff employed for the year. But why would you want to?" "New X-Ray equipment? Pfft. We all know you're just going to spend it on TiVos and internet porn."), keeping attention off Wilson.

Finally it was his turn. Forgetting himself, Wilson stood up--and immediately sat back down. There were a few raised eyebrows amongst his colleges.

"I, um, have a new issue." He stammered, trying to get on track. "The pediatric department within the oncology department is in desperate need of funding. We need a new doctor to help handle the caseload…"

He hurried through his proposal, garnering nods from the other doctors. It would be approved--at least that was one problem solved.

"We get it, cancer kiddies, real sad. Can we vote yes and go?" House piped up.

"Actually, yes, we can." Cuddy gave him an annoyed look, but didn't press the issue. House was being irritating, but at least he wasn't holding things up. Much. "On Doctor Smith's nursing proposal, yea or nay?"

Wilson studied the door amid the mantra of 'yea's'. How was he going to get out of here without anyone noticing? It was after five o'clock, and even with the foam he was only 5'6 --he'd never get out of the building without everyone seeing his condition, let alone the room.

House had apparently thought of this. As the voting closed and everyone rose to leave, he limped over to Wilson's side of the table.

"C'mon, boy wonder. Time to get hammered."

"House--" Wilson was quickly yanked to his feet and hustled out by the older man. The other doctors took no notice. Wilson getting kidnapped by House was downright common.

House didn't let go until they'd reached the parking lot--Wilson hadn't even had time to change out of his lab coat (which was beginning to hang perilously close to the ground).

"Thanks House." Wilson removed the foam from his shoes--it was practically flat anyway. "Now what?"

"Did you think I was joking earlier? We're going to a bar." House raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think that's a good idea. We should try to figure this out. I was going to go to the health store to see if they had an antidote." Wilson craned his neck slightly, as not to stare House in the chest.

"It's closed, I checked their hours online."

"What?!"

"Tuesdays they close early for some sort of 'Wilderness ritual'. Sounds like they're somewhere smoking pot, actually."

Wilson groaned aloud and dropped onto the seat of his car. "If I don't go in till eight tomorrow I'll barely be over four feet tall. I won't be able to drive."

"I'll pick you up." House shrugged. "And you're assuming this will just continue. We don't know for sure it will."

"That's unusually optimistic opinion for you." Wilson muttered.

"The prospect of seeing the effects of alcohol on my shrunken best friend is putting me in a good mood." House replied, almost cheerfully. "I'll meet you at Harpers."

"Fine." Wilson saw there would be no point in arguing. House was already limping to his bike.

Wilson took a few minutes to re-adjust his mirrors and seat. Everything had to be scaled down to his frame. Of course, he was still within the norm of regular (if very short) height, and that was possible. In a few hours, he might not be able to reach the pedals.

'Actually, a drink sound really good right about now.' The depressing realization led him easily to this though. He gave the mirror one finial tweak, and tried not to stare at himself. Everyone else doing it was bad enough.

-

To be continued...


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Three.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

A few hours later found Wilson a few inches shorter, and many degrees drunker. His new size--probably only 5 feet now, he hadn't any way to check--was making the alcohol hit him a lot harder. He'd only had two beers and already his vision was starting to wobble.

"I think…I think I need to go back to the hotel." He tried desperately not to slur. One sleeve dragged in a puddle of spilled beer on the counter as he pushed the empty glass away. The cloth lay limp, covering his fingertips. His feet were firmly planted on a rung of the barstool--he wasn't able to touch the floor.

"I'll drop you off." House rolled his eyes. "God, you're such a lightweight."

Wilson flicked a few bills onto the counter and slipped off the barstool. He could still see over the bar--but only just.

"I'm not drinking again until this is fixed." He muttered as they trudged out. A few of the drunks at the bar snickered as he passed.

"Sure thing, Tattoo."

Wilson tossed House the keys and settled into the passenger seat. "You're running out of famous dwarves."

"I've still got Grumpy, Sneezy, and Dorky."

"Dopey." Wilson corrected as House re-adjusted the seats and mirrors.

"Whoever."

-

Bright light hit Wilson, rousing him out of his slumber. His hazy vision settled on the bedside clock. He'd slept like a log after House dropped him off, it must be after eight by now…

"Ten?" He groaned as his vision focused. The health shop had been open for two hours. And if it was 13 hours later than when he'd left the bar…

Wilson sat up. The bed stretched before him like a bad camera trick. He pushed the covers aside slowly and hopped out of bed. It seemed to take an ungodly long second before he hit the floor.

The bed reached as high as his chest.

"That's completely freaky." He murmured. He held his arm up experimentally. Last night the cloth had barely covered his fingertips--now, it hung down well past his hands. The shirt was covering his entire body, actually, more like a nightshirt than anything else.

"I'd better call House." He grabbed his cell phone, ignoring how awkward it felt in his hand.

"Are you sober enough to go shopping?" House had barely even let the phone ring--very unusual.

"I suppose."

"I'm guessing you're going to need some new threads too."

"Definitely." Wilson eyed his dresser glumly. At 4 feet, it was currently taller than he was.

"Okay. I'll be there in an hour." House hung up quickly.

"…Okay." Wilson replaced the phone on the bedside dresser.

He didn't have a tape measurer, but observation confirmed his height at 3'11. Just about the size of a first grader.

Wilson stood on tip-toe to peer into the dresser's mirror, and was able to catch a bare glimpse of himself. His appearance was less disheveled than he'd thought--more comical than anything else. He could have easily been a child playing dress up, were it not for the 5'oclock shadows and not-so-subtle age lines.

House was going to have a field day with this.

Sighing, he made his way into the bathroom. The shower would be inoperable in this state (he didn't even try to reach the showerhead), but a bath was within his grasp.

Somehow, this whole situation was a lot less scary than it should have been. The prospect of shrinking to nothing was far too ludicrous to hit home. And with House in on it, he couldn't find much reason to be scare of being cut off from human contact. House wouldn't rest until this was solved, even if Wilson was smaller than…Well, something very tiny. Dwelling on it wasn't going to help.

The water lapping at his fingertips drew him from his thoughts. Shedding the oversized shirt and boxers he'd fallen asleep in, Wilson slid into the hot water. The tub was good sized, even for someone of normal high. Now, it was practically the size of a hot tub.

He stretched out, enjoying the hot water for a few minutes. He washed his hair, noting how much thicker the lather seemed, and how the bottle was very unwieldy in his hands. A tiny corner of his mind wondered what a bubble bath would be like in this state. Overwhelming, likely.

He lay back, trying to relax. 'The next few days of my life are going to be very stressful and difficult--I better indulge while I can.'

-

House made it to Wilson's hotel just under the hour mark. He held a bag stuffed with extra clothes in his free hand. He'd bought a number of different pieces at different sizes. Wilson was more of a clothes horse than House, but House thought there'd be one or two items he'd approve of. And if he didn't, tough. House wasn't going to spend another minute in the little boy's department, trying to look more like an inexperienced father, and less like a pervert.

A call of "It's open." answered his knock. House hurried in, wanting to be rid of the clothes almost as much as he wanted to see Wilson.

Wilson was sitting on the suite's loveseat, looking nearly engulfed by the enormous chair. His clothes weren't helping the illusion either--he was in a clean, but gigantic, tee-shirt. His hair was still wet from the bath.

House sat down on the couch and proffered the bag of clothes. "Direct from the rug-rat department."

"Already on my credit card too, I suspect."

House grinned. "I had those numbers memorized years ago."

"To think, I used to wonder where charges for the 900 numbers came from." Wilson rolled his eyes and slid off the chair.

House watched as he dug through the bag. "I got a ton of stuff, so I won't have to go back later. I have better things to do with my life than dig through the discount Ken Doll clothes."

"You didn't!"

"I did." House pulled a plastic-faced box from the bag and held it aloft. "They even have a lab coat in the pack. Something to look forward to."

"Remind me never to talk about the joys of anticipation with you again." Wilson grabbed a few items and disappeared into the washroom.

House studied the box for a moment. The set included several other outfits along with the doctor's uniform. Wilson would probably ignore the pirate getup and the army fatigues, but the casual set of jeans and polo shirt would be wearable. Assuming Wilson got that small, of course.

Part of House (okay, a large part) was interested to see just how long this could go on. As far as medical mysteries went, this was top-notch, and impossible to boot. Once they went by the health shop and found out what was needed to reverse this, House was going to do a full workup on him. He'd never be able to submit the data to a journal or drug company, but it would be well worth having. Blackmail material didn't grow on trees, after all.

Wilson emerged from the washroom, outfitted in jeans, neon sneakers, a Power-Rangers tee-shirt, and matching hoodie. He could pass for a kid, as long as nobody took a lingering look at him.

"You couldn't get anything plainer?" Wilson fingered the shirt nervously.

"Sorry. Wal-mart's 'Adult Transformed Into a Kid' department was cleaned out. Summer rush." House got up. "Do we need to sneak you out, or will the hotel not care how small you are as long as you're still paying?"

"We can just walk out." Wilson slipped the key-card and his wallet into his jeans.

House regarded him for a moment. "Hold my hand."

"What?"

"If you don't want to attract attention, act like a kid. Take my hand."

"I'm not going to do that!"

"Fine, then act like a bratty kid. Either way, let's go." House limped into the hallway.

Wilson followed him. As they approached the people in the elevator queue, Wilson slipped his hand into House's.

"Don't say a word, House." He muttered under his breath. Nobody seemed to notice them as they boarded the elevator.

"Time for your swimming lesson, Sport." House barked out cheerfully. "Poor little guy can't stand the water, absolutely terrified of anything bigger than a puddle. I'm taking him out to the lake."

"Kids can be like that." A tall blond woman responded warmly. She reached down to touch Wilson's hair in a motherly fashion, forcing him to hide his face in House's side.

'I'm going to get him for this.' He thought as House and the woman laughed. 'I have no idea how, but I will.'

House ruffled Wilson's hair affectionately. Already, things were quite entertaining.

-

To be continued...


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Four.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

"Okay so, in addition to 'proper' clothing, we need to get a tape measure, a ruler, and whatever you use to make macadamia nut pancakes."

"I'm not going to cook. My room doesn't even have a stove."

"My apartment does. You can stay with me until this blows over."

"I can? Goody."

Wilson was still sulking about House's little prank in the elevator. House grinned and tousled his hair. The oncologist batted at his hand and growled.

"Okay, okay." House toned down his grin. "I'll try to remember that, boyish looks aside, you're still a grumpy middle-aged man."

Wilson grumbled something under his breath that may have been acceptance, and fiddled with his seatbelt. It was cutting painfully across his neck.

"Maybe you should sit in the backseat on the way home." House said as he pulled in to the health store's parking lot. "Kids are supposed to stay back there until they hit 4'9."

"I'll consider it." Wilson unsnapped the belt and hopped out of the car as House rolled to a stop.

The shop was unassuming at best. It was brick, dingy, and it's windows were lit by flickering candles. It looked more like a haunted attraction than a health food store.

"Karma-2-Burn. Cute." House wrinkled his nose. "You've been shopping here for sexual aids, I assume."

"Only after I found one at your place." Wilson shot back as they headed in.

The inside of the shop was lit no better than the outside. Smoke curled from various clashing incense scents. The counter was impressive--dark, polished wood, and quite tall.

Wilson approached the counter, but didn't come close to seeing over it. "A little help, House?"

"God, you're so needy." House stepped up beside him and rung the courtesy wind chime. "Hello! I'm looking for the latest Kabala tie-in?"

A young man emerged from behind a heavily beaded curtain. He didn't look like a health-food hippy--short hair, pressed kakis, necktie. He looked like a cashier in an Ikea store.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Yes. You sold a product to my friend that's killing him. Can I get store credit for that?"

"House!"

The shout caused the young man's eyebrows to crawl upwards. Slowly, he peeked over the counter.

"Um…hello, sir." His eyebrows stayed quirked. "Can I help you?"

"Yes. I came in here the other day and bought a bottle of 'Nature's Way Reducing Tonic', and--"

"Oh, Shit!" The blood drained from the clerk's face. "I thought we got all those in the recall!"

"Recall?" House and Wilson echoed together.

"Yes, there was a problem with the formula and the printer screwed up the instruction sheet. If someone read it wrong they could OD and…you already did that." He finished glumly, seeing Wilson's expression. "I'm guessing you're not usually that size."

"Good assumption. You'll make assistant manager in no time with that killer instinct." House replied.

The man ignored the quip. "When did you use the product?"

"Yesterday morning. By the time I figured out what had happened, you guys were closed." Wilson replied.

"Bad timing. We close early every other Tuesday. Any other day of the week, you'd be golden."

"Is there a way to fix this, or at least stop it?" Wilson pressed.

"Well, the good news is, yes. There is an antidote…"

Relief washed over the oncologist.

"..But you can't take it until the tonic has run it's course." The clerk finished.

"What!" Wilson yelled.

"Why?" House asked quietly. His expression has gone deadly serious.

"Well, uh, if the antidote is taken before, um, the tonic is out of his system, it could uh, react negatively, and er, cancel each other out. He'd be stuck at whatever size he was at when he took it." The man stammered. House's expression rattled him. "That's what happened in the trials."

"And if I wait, I'll be normal?" Wilson asked.

"…Probably. 90% chance, yeah." The man nodded.

"Do you have the antidote here?"

"Um, no, but I could get some fed-exed up in a couple of hours." The clerk replied.

"And how long until the tonic is out of his system?" House asked.

"Hard to say. You'll know when he stop's shrinking." The man replied. "He won't go, like, microscopic or anything, but I would definitely put any family pets out of the house."

"We'll take that under advisement." House snarled. "You better get that stuff up here quick, retail-boy. I'll be back at closing for it."

The man gulped and nodded. "Yes sir. I'm very sorry about--"

"You'll be a lot sorrier if anything goes wrong." House growled and limped towards the door.

"…Yes sir."

-

House's rage dissipated after the young man was out of sight. "Well Dollman, all in all, good news."

"Good news?! House, I could shrink down to an inch high--or--or less!"

"And that's good news. You're not going to vanish." House said as they got in the car.

"I could be stuck this way!"

"There's only a 10% chance of that, pretty good odds." House reasoned.

"Okay, if you're not worried why did you bite that clerk's head off?" Wilson demanded.

Here, House looked a little uncomfortable. "I just wanted to make sure we got the best service. I'm the customer, It's my prerogative to scream at the employees."

"You're worried about me." Wilson's anger gave way to amusement.

"Not worried. I just don't want you to fall off a chair and break your leg at my apartment." House scoffed. "You seem like the type to sue."

"You don't want to see me get hurt."

"Only if it's amusing. You can get hit in the crotch with a football as many times as you like." House replied coolly.

"It's nice to know my best friend doesn't actively wish me harm."

"I guess I just made your tiny little day." House said as he pulled onto the highway.

Wilson gave him a sideways glance. "House, your apartment is in the other direction."

"The hospital's this way."

"I'm not going in like this!"

"Nobody will know it's you. I want to get a few scans while you're undergoing the process. I'm sure there are all sorts of great applications for shrinking in medicine. Don't you want to help that along?"

"I--"

"Good."

Wilson groaned. "House, it's already noon. I don't want to be there at five."

"When you'll be 3'4?"

"I don't want to be there period, okay?"

"Not okay. If you don't want to do tests, you can hide out in my office. I have some work to do."

"And you'll make sure no one sees me?"

"Sure thing."

"…Okay." Wilson murmured.

"I'm glad you agreed, since you don't actually have a choice. Unless you want to hide in the trunk for five hours."

"Oh, yes, that sounds lovely."

"It'll get roomier as the day goes by."

"Not a good selling point, House."

House just grinned. There were plenty of ways to get data without the MRI machines or EKG scans.

-

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Five.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

House had wanted to disguise Wilson elaborately to sneak him past the hospital security and staff, but Wilson had gone with a hoodie and hiding behind House on the way to their floor. Wilson went to hide in his office while House worked--although, to Wilson's knowledge, House didn't actually have a patient that day.

'I can use today to catch up on my paperwork, since no one will be bothering me.' Wilson eyed his gigantic desk thoughtfully. Maybe he'd stick some colorful drawings on the lower half of it for his pediatric patients--from this angle, his office was severely dull.

He was able to work until almost 1:00 before House hopped the balcony, lunch bags in hand. By that time Wilson was more than ready for a break--his legs hurt from dangling above the floor.

"I got the McHeart attack." House dropped the bag in front of him.

"Thanks House."

"Thank me later by making pancakes."

Wilson rolled his eyes and slid from his chair. "Sure thing. I've just got to live through this."

House pulled a tape measurer from his pocket. "First things first."

Wilson sighed, by stayed still as House knelt down and marked him.

"3'8. You're right on schedule."

"At least my ridiculous size-changing is staying to an impossibly neat schedule." Wilson muttered, picking up his lunch.

"I know, it's awesome." House grinned. He sat on Wilson's couch. For the first time since this had started, he could look Wilson in the eye.

"At least it's Thursday, so after tomorrow we can both spend the next few days at ho--House, what the hell?!"

The curse had followed an intensely bright and completely unexpected flash of light. Wilson rubbed the spots out of his eyes. House was waving a small square in one hand, and held a large camera in the other.

"It took me forever to find an actual Polaroid camera with film." House grinned as the photo filled in.

"You took my picture?!"

"With the power of an on-camera computer, light meter, and automatic flash setting."

"Give me that." Wilson grabbed for the photo. House yanked it out of his reach.

"Nope. I need some evidence, or I'll never be able to prove this happened. It's hard to fake a Polaroid."

"Give me the photo, House." Wilson tried to grab it again. House stood up and held the photo over Wilson's head.

"Want to try jumping for it?"

"You are an ass." Wilson glared at him.

"Well established." House tucked the photo into his pocket. "But I'm keeping a log of this for your benefit."

"My benefit."

"Yes. God only know what's going to happen before this is over--a record of events just might come in handy."

"Don't act like you're doing this to help. You're doing this so you can blackmail me later." Wilson snapped.

"Only if I really need to. Otherwise, these babies are going in a scrapbook to be entitled 'Wilson's Humiliation, Volume 1.'."

"One?"

"I assume more bad things will happen to you--you have a knack for them."

Wilson rolled his eyes and grabbed the hoodie off his desk chair. "I'm going out for a while."

"Out where?"

"Outside." Wilson said curtly, and stalked out. The hood was pulled low over his face so no one would recognize him.

House limped after him. "Are you hoping I'll reform if you throw a tantrum? It hasn't worked for Cuddy, and her tantrums are much sexier."

"I just want to be alone." Wilson turned a corner and picked up the pace.

"I'll be in my office." House turned back.

Wilson continued downstairs, taking the steps carefully. House was treating this whole situation like a joke. Granted, it wasn't life threatening (at least, if what the clerk said was true), but Wilson had hoped to be taken seriously. Or at least, as seriously as House usually took him.

The early September weather was slightly chilly, making him glad of the hoodie. Without a particular destination, he wandered toward the center of the courtyard. A few boys were playing catch amongst the trees. Wilson barely noticed them as he passed.

A ball suddenly landed at his feet.

"Hey kid, throw it here!"

Wilson winced slightly at this, but tossed the ball back. One of the boys gave him a curious stare, and he hurried on. The last thing he needed was for anyone, grownup or kid, to take a long look at him. As House had so charmingly pointed out, his boyish looks would only fool people for a moment or two, at best.

Wilson went around a corner of the hospital. He'd take the long way back to the front door.

-

House watched Wilson walk below the balcony. He didn't spare a glance upwards. That was fine with House. If Wilson saw him, he'd either get huffy again, or think House was watching him to make sure nothing happened to him. In House's opinion, compassion was best dished out in tiny doses, if at all. Use too much, and people got dependant. House had his own addictions to deal with (or not) he didn't need to start feeding any more of Wilson's. God knew the oncologist could fill his quota of 'People I need to fix' with House alone.

As Wilson turned the corner, House headed back inside. He'd get a blood sample to go with his next photo. It'd be data worth the fit Wilson would inevitably throw.

-

Wilson made it back to his office without being stopped by security personal, or well-meaning doctors. Something about a child who seemed to know where he was going just didn't register on adult radars.

He didn't return to his paperwork, but instead settled on the couch. The walk had been far more tiring than he'd anticipated--he hadn't thought about the extra steps needed to cover the distance.

Wilson removed his hoodie and noted the state of his clothes. They were beginning to sag--he'd have to change into something smaller soon. At this rate his proportions would soon be too skewed to pass for a child. Well, it wasn't like he was planning on going anywhere. Until this fiasco was over, he was going to hide out. He'd have to tell Cuddy he'd gotten some kind of ultra-contagious flu. Wilson rarely called in sick, so he had plenty of time built up. More than enough for this thing to run it's course.

'Assuming it runs a course and I _can _get back to normal.'

-

To be continued...


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Six.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

P.S. Spot the Discworld reference, and win my respect. ;)

-

It was nearly six before House was ready to leave. Wilson had completed the accumulated paperwork hours ago, and had tried to fill his time by researching the 'Nature's Way' company online. They'd had no real homepage, only an order form with a small note about the recall of the tonic at the bottom. It gave no details, but suggested customers to turn the tonic in to their local retailer.

'Great alert system.' Wilson thought dryly. 'Second only to the local news in usefulness.'

"Ready to go?" House had hopped the balcony again.

"Yes." Wilson turned the computer off. "I need to get out of these clothes."

"I've got the other stuff in the car." House gave him an apprising look. "You've probably moved into the 'pre-schooler' range.

"Don't remind me." Wilson groaned as he approached House. His eye line was just about waist-level with the other man.

"Hang on. I want to get this before we get back to 'Captain Trips One Stop Voodoo Shop'." House pulled out the tape measurer. Wilson stood still as the measurements were taken. "3'3."

"That's about what we expected." Wilson sighed. Apparently, he wouldn't be taking the tonic any time soon, even if it had arrived at the shop.

House took Wilson's hand as the left the office. Cuddy and the ducklings had gone home already, and no one else would approach House on his way out. Nobody who knew him, anyway.

Even with House's limping gait, Wilson found himself struggling to keep up. His legs simply weren't long enough to hold a walking pace with the older man. If House noticed, he didn't try to do anything about it. Wilson pulled his hand from House's grasp as soon as they hit the parking lot. He fell a few steps behind, but he was no longer being pulled along.

"We're going straight back to your place after the store, right?" Wilson debated for a moment before climbing into the back seat of the car. The middle belt would only go across his lap, and not cut across his neck and face.

"Aside from stopping at a drive thru." House replied as he got in.

"You're not going to make me cook?"

"I'm not letting you near any appliance that uses fire and is currently taller than you are. Bad combo." House shrugged.

"I guess so." Wilson sighed and looked out the window. Or, rather, looked up at the window. At this size, he could only see out of the top of the glass.

'Do kids have to put up with this stuff, or do they not even notice?' Wilson wondered as House drove. He couldn't remember anything especially frustrating, size-wise, from his young childhood, aside from being unable to reach things on high shelves, and that hadn't lasted too long.

"I'm going to see if the clerk can give us a better estimate of my end size than 'not microscopic'."

"It could be helpful." House replied dryly.

"At first I was scared that I was going to vanish--but right now I'm just annoyed at the inconvenience of it all."

"You're rationalizing, just like every other human in the face of a terrifying situation." House replied. "People can't be terrified 24/7. It's tiring."

"You're right."

"Don't worry about it--you'll be terrified later when your diminishing role in the food chain becomes more apparent."

House grinned as Wilson groaned. "Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything snack on you. I'd hate to have to tell your Mom you'd been eaten by a cat."

"Only because you actually like my Mother."

"She's not an idiot." House shrugged. "Unlike her offspring."

"You're so good at these uplifting talks. Remind me to have you give a speech to the terminal patients."

"Right after your lecture on fidelity." House replied.

Despite himself, Wilson smiled.

"Well, we're here."

"I couldn't even tell." Wilson said, surprised. He unbuckled the belt and stood up. "I couldn't see anything from these windows."

"It's getting dark anyway--not much to see."

Wilson didn't bother taking his hand as they went in. The young man was alone behind the counter, and took on a nervous expression as House approached him.

"Is it in?" House had gone back into his 'barely controlled rage' act.

"Yes sir." The clerk (who's tag identified him as 'Tim') retrieved a box from under the counter.

"You said earlier I wouldn't become microscopic. Is there anything more specific you can tell us?" Wilson stood back from the counter in order to see the man.

Tim did a double take as he looked down at Wilson. "Um, well, not really. It depends on personal metabolism and how much of the drug you took. You could end up anywhere between six inches and a quarter of an inch high."

"A quarter of an inch?!" The panic that he'd been ducking leapt into his throat.

"It's unlikely." Tim said quickly. "Most test subjects ended at a few inches."

"So we're somewhere between gnome and 'Honey I Shrunk the Oncologist.'." House said flatly. "It won't matter--I can always separate doses of antidote with a syringe if you get that small."

"Um, well, actually…" Tim trailed off.

"Actually what?"

"If he gets smaller than an inch, the serum won't restore him to normal. That's the cause of the 10% failure rate I mentioned before." He said submissively.

"WHAT?!" House and Wilson shouted together.

"It's your body's morphological field--it can't cope with sizes that far apart!" Tim said. "Once you've been compressed that small, it can't re-expand."

"What the hell is a morphological field?" House growled, leaning over the counter.

"We sell a book by Dr. Pratchett that explains it. It's your body's way of holding your aura in line with--"

"Never mind." House snapped, taking the box. "I assume we're supposed to wait an hour after we think he's stopped shrinking to use this stuff. That is, if he stops at more than an inch high."

"I would." Tim said meekly.

"Great."

"If you have any other questions, feel free to stop by." Tim's salesperson persona was obviously a good one--he was able to give the standard spiel even when thing were going horribly.

"Oh don't worry--I'll be back." House took a long look at him before heading out the door.

Wilson trailed behind him slightly dazed.

"I--"

"Don't dwell on it, it won't help."

"But--"

"You'll only make yourself miserable."

"House--"

"What did I just say?"

Wilson didn't reply this time.

"10% is a pretty small percentage. Just put it out of your mind." House advised as he got in the car.

"Yeah, thanks." Wilson snapped. "I'll just ignore the problem."

House paused a moment before starting the car. "We'll handled it, if it comes up."

Wilson pondered this quietly. If this thing did progress (regress?) that far, he wouldn't be able to handle much of anything. It would leave everything decidedly in House's hands, which the diagnostician seemed to accept.

Something about that was absurdly heartening.

"Okay."

"You won't spend the next few days fretting at the horror of your situation?"

"Not much point in worrying about it." Wilson's voice was stilted, but he was at least trying to sound normal.

"Okay then" House started off.

-

To be continued...


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Seven.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

Wilson was stretched across one corner of House's sofa. House was on the other end, taking the lion's share of the space--not that Wilson really needed any more room. At a mere 2'9, he was perfectly comfortable with a fraction of the couch. The pillow behind him was nearly the length of his entire body. For the first time in his entire adult life he'd be able to stretch out as much as he wanted. At least he could look forward to a comfortable night's rest.

"This is the best part." House reached into the gigantic bowl of popcorn between them. "The blond chick is gonna get naked."

"No way. She's the token virgin." Wilson plucked a few kernels of corn from the bowl. He could only hold about three or four in one hand.

"Nope." House grinned as the screen filled with the nude female form.

Wilson's eyes went wide. "I stand corrected."

The remains of dinner lay strewn on the coffee table. Wilson's half-finished big mac and fries were starting to atrophy--they hadn't taken into account diminished stomach size when ordering dinner. All that was left of House's meal was crumbs and wrappers.

Wilson yawned. "When this is over, I think we should both get to sleep."

"You're not going to stay up and watch yourself wither away? Where's your sense of curiosity?"

"Hiding with my dignity, I suspect." Wilson said dryly, and slipped off the couch. He always kept an extra toothbrush and pajamas at Houses for the occasions he slept over. The pajamas would be far too big, but he could at least brush his teeth.

'Or not.' Wilson stared up at the washroom sink glumly. He'd need a chair to reach it.

A quick glance around solved his problem. House had a shower chair in the washroom--it wasn't actually in the shower (Wilson doubted he used it), but so much the better. Wilson doubted he could lift it over the lip of the shower. He could drag it to the sink, though, and quickly did so.

The mirror-cabinet was unreachable, but his toothbrush and paste already lay on the sink. The brush was unwieldy in his hands--nearly the size of a hairbrush. Wilson gave a mental shrug and brushed what teeth he could reach without jamming the hunk of plastic between his molars.

By the time he wandered back into the living room, the movie was over. House had vacated to the kitchen to grab a snack.

Wilson climbed (literally) back on to the couch. "Tell me you're not eating the month-old Mexican food I saw in there."

"Nope. I've moved on to sugary junk guaranteed to rot my teeth." House stalked back, a box of Oreos in hand.

"Just don't lick the cookies and put them back in the box like last time."

"I didn't really do that, I just wanted to see your expression."

Wilson watched as House popped another DVD in the player. "I thought we were done for the evening."

"Just because you're lame enough to have a bedtime doesn't mean I am." House replied.

Wilson just sighed and laid back. 'Another movie won't hurt, I guess.'

-

Wilson actually fell asleep about half way through the movie. All the extra work from simply getting around had exhausted him. He slept dreamlessly on House's couch, and awoke to early-morning light pouring in the window. Not fully awake, he tried to get off the couch.

Wilson let out a surprised yelp as he fell. The floor was much farther away than it should have been. He thumped on to the hardwood, slightly shocked, but unhurt.

The events of the last two days came flying back. He scrambled hastily to his feet, wondering what the damage was.

'I might have stopped shrinking during the night...' He gazed up at the couch, hope plummeting. The couch cushions were level with his eye line. '…Guess not.'

"Damnit." He muttered aloud.

He was certainly smaller than last night--probably about 2 feet even by now. He'd need the tape measurer to figure out exactly how small he was, though. House was passed out in bed, and probably would be for some time. No telling when he'd actually gone to sleep.

He walked slowly into the kitchen, staring up at everything in House's apartment. Everything was gigantic, seemingly twice as big as normal--or more. The room itself seemed the size of a movie theater. Thoroughly creeped out, he hurried into the kitchen.

Wilson could see the tape measurer on the countertop (if he stood back a bit) but couldn't hope to reach it on his own. He got behind the nearest chair and started to push it towards the counter. The chair was easily twice his height, and far too heavy; he was only able to move it a few inches.

"Great." He grumbled. He tried fruitlessly to adjust his enormous clothes. The shirt had passed 'nightshirt' several inches ago. Now it was more like a tent. "I'll just have to get House up."

Wilson hurried to House's bedroom. The diagnostician would be annoyed at being woken, but would forget it once he was able to chart Wilson's latest 'progress.'

One thing Wilson hadn't though of, however, was House's closed bedroom door. The knob was high above his head, out of arm's length. Feeling quite silly, Wilson jumped for it once or twice, but couldn't gain purchase--his hands were too small.

"Okay, this has officially stopped being amusing. House!" Wilson yelled, wondering if his voice would carry through the wood. Even if it didn't House would be up sooner or later.

"HOUSE!" Wilson tried knocking as well, but got no response. Defeated, he trudged back to the living room. He could at least get into clothes that fit by himself--the bag was on the floor.

Alarmingly, the paper bag was only marginally shorter than he was. Wilson leaned over the side, trying to rip the paper. It bent slightly to his weight, but held firm. He reached down, trying to find the smaller articles House has said were there. Near to the bottom was a stash of clothing labeled 'Living doll.' To Wilson's utter mortification, these seemed to be the proper size.

"He got me actual doll clothes." Wilson groaned, lifting the articles aloft. House had gotten him jeans and a plain shirt--at least it was a normal-looking outfit. He cast the huge child's shirt aside and changed.

'I never thought I'd appreciate having clothes that fit.' He thought ruefully. He wandered back to the couch. After a few moments he struggled his way to the top--at least the cushions offered hand holds.

He looked gloomily at the pillow he'd slept on last night. Before all this had started it had been just enough to rest his head on--Now it could accommodate his whole body.

Yesterday he'd been within the realm of functionality. In hindsight it hadn't been that bad.

Now…

'I've been thinking so much about what might happen in the end, I've completely ignored what was going to happen in-between.' Wilson realized.

He curled up next to the pillow. 'I guess I'll have plenty of time to think about it now.'

He wished House would get up. Being alone made it much worse.

'Good God, I'm actually looking to House to keep my spirits up.'

He let out a half-laugh that might have been a sob.

-

To be Continued...


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Eight.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

House got up at eight, not a moment before he absolutely had to. He wondered if Wilson was up yet; the man was a habitual early riser. He limped into the living room and spotted Wilson curled up on the couch. He'd obviously been up already--he'd changed in to clothes that actually fit his now doll-sized frame.

House took a moment to inventory Wilson's stature before prodding him. "Hey, Scott Carey, time to get up."

Wilson raised his head and gave him a confused look. "Who?"

"Scott Carey. Matheson's 'The Incredible Shrinking Man'?"

Wilson just shrugged. "Never read it."

"You've never even seen the movie?"

"No."

"I guess that's going on the top of my 'Net-flix' queue, then." House sat down next to him.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?"

"Probably. I have clinic today." House made no move to get up.

"So…why are you staring at me?"

"I'm trying to decide if convincing you to come with me would be worth the effort."

"What? I can't go in like this." Wilson stood up. "Look at me. I can't even pass for a child at this point."

"I want to chart your progress during the day and I can't do that with you here."

"You can call me. Sitting in my office and watching my desk grow isn't something I want to do."

"So you'll wait in my office."

"And spend the day hiding from your fellows."

"I'll stuff you in a desk drawer."

"Yeah. I'm going to pass." Wilson replied.

"No, you're not." House stood up. "I've yet to unleash my most persuasive argument."

"Which would be?"

"I'm bigger than you." House pulled a zip tie out of his pants pocket. "Last chance to go along peacefully."

"…You're joking." Wilson managed.

"Nope." House grabbed Wilson's wrists in one massive hand. Wilson immediately began to struggle, but there was no hope of overpowering the other man.

"House, let me go!"

"No, because if I do you'll wedge yourself somewhere I can't get to." House slipped the tie over his wrists and pulled it taut. "Quit struggling or I'll cut off your circulation."

"I can't believe you!"

"Really? This seems exactly like something I'd do." House grabbed another tie and bound Wilson's ankles together. "Relax, by the time we get to the hospital you'll be small enough to slip out of the ties."

"If I ever get back to normal I'm going to kick your ass!"

House ignored the threat and surveyed his work. "I'll be ready in ten minutes. Don't go anywhere."

"Bastard!" Wilson yelled at House's retreating back. He hadn't been looking forward to spending the day alone, but this wasn't going to be any better!

Wilson swiveled his wrists, but it wasn't helping. At this point his options were limited to staying where he was, or falling off the couch in an escape attempt.

"I may as well save myself the bruises." He muttered. This was not going to be a good day.

-

"You're still not talking to me, right? Because I really want to catch the football scores."

Wilson didn't even look up at him.

"Great." House flipped his portable TV on.

After the seemingly endless drive to the hospital (where Wilson endured bouncing around the back seat, unbelted), House has snuck him inside by putting him in his backpack. House had figured on Wilson not calling for help, since he didn't want to be discovered in this state. House had clipped his bonds after arriving in his office, and gone to the clinic, leaving Wilson to his own devices. The dwindling doctor had used the time to plot his revenge--He didn't have all the details yet, but it would involve superglue and laxatives. He'd considered screwing with House's office, but could find no way to make it less organized than it already was.

The fact that House continued to take his picture and measure him wasn't helping.

"Twenty inches on the dot." House said after rolling the tape up. "You know what that means."

"That my life has officially become a living hell?" Wilson asked dully.

"It's noon. Let's get lunch. And before you start in with your 'I don't want to be seen' whining, I've already sent my ducklings out of the office. We can eat in peace." House stood up and went into the glass-plated room.

"You shut the blinds?" Wilson followed him.

"Yep. Your secret identity is safe, Dollman." House began to rummage the mini-fridge he'd won in his latest battle with Cuddy.

"You've used that one already." Wilson said.

"I did? Damn."

Wilson examined one of the chairs and decided climbing on to it would be less humiliating than asking House for help. After a few moments of awkward struggling he managed to pull himself onto the seat. The triumph was short lived, however--Wilson quickly saw that sitting in the chair made him too short to see the tabletop.

He sighed a long-suffering sigh. Nothing was easy.

"I also want to have a look at the cure." House pulled two sandwiches out of the fridge. The postal box was sitting under the table.

"You had to leave that where everyone could see it?"

"Nobody cares. My fellows probably think it's a mail-order sex toy for Cuddy." House set the sandwiches down and retrieved the box. It looked innocuous enough.

"Fine. Let's just see what it is." Wilson stood and picked up a section of the already-quartered sandwich.

House ripped into the box eagerly, and produced a thick white bottle, and a sheaf of instructions. He glanced through the instructions, leaving the bottle on the tabletop.

" 'Antidote 5xyn-A, intended for use with 'Nature's Way Reducing Tonic' formula 7-B'. I guess the hippies got with 'The Establishment' after fucking up so badly." House said.

"What does it say to do?"

"It says to orally administer 1 milliliter of formula for every milliliter of over-dose taken. I guess that means a tablespoon in your case."

"They provide you with a lot more than that." Wilson frowned at the shampoo sized bottle.

House shrugged. "Possible that more than one person would need it. Besides, I'd rather have too much than not enough."

"Good point."

Wilson's eyes went wide as the office door swung open. He didn't see who was there, which meant they hadn't seen him--yet. He dropped onto the floor scooted back underneath the seat of the chair, for all the protection it offered.

'Oh God, they're going to see me. There's no way they won't.' Wilson watched as Cuddy and Foreman approached House, apparently telling him off about his latest clinic escapade. Cuddy stopped right in front of the chair, leaving Wilson only able to see her from the shins down. Foreman stood a few steps back. Wilson remained stock-still, sure at any moment Foreman would look his way. He was in plain sight, it was only a matter of time until--

Wilson's heart jack-hammered nastily as the two Doctors left. He hadn't been spotted.

"That was close." House muttered as Wilson came out. "You alright?"

"They…didn't see me." Wilson looked troubled.

"Yeah."

"Cuddy was practically on top of me and Foreman was right there, but neither of them saw me."

"Yeah, lucky he didn't look down."

"I guess so." Wilson said vaguely.

"You guess so?"

"I…I'm just not used to being overlooked."

"Oh no, we are not having a pity party." House groaned. "It's not a commentary on your self worth, or your likeability. You were under a damn chair."

"Well,--"

"And most people don't look that far down when they walk."

"Okay, okay. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing." Wilson replied.

"Yes. And look on the bright side--you may still get found out."

"Yes. I think I'll eat in your office in case they come back."

"Fine." House handed him the plate and watched, amused, as Wilson tried to carry the platter-sized dinnerware in to the other room. "Want a hand with that, Chucky?"

"You're really reaching now."

"Can't blame me for trying."

-

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Nine.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

"15 inches."

"Seriously?"

"Yep."

Wilson had already changed his clothes twice. House had been very thorough, it seemed, in getting every size of doll clothes there was. The clothes didn't fit him very well, even after changing to smaller sizes--his proportions didn't match what he suspected were baby-doll clothes.

"Don't sweat it." House commented after watching him try to adjust the waistband on his cotton 'jeans'. "In a few hours you'll be Barbie sized and the scale will be closer."

"Great." Wilson paced across the tabletop. He didn't worry about cracking the glass--at this size he couldn't weigh more than a few pounds.

"At least it's Friday--barring a horrible traffic accident I won't get called in, and we can stay at home."

House punctuated this remark by scooping Wilson up. Before the oncologist had time to protest, he was being placed in House's backpack.

"A little warning would have been nice!"

"I'm sure it would have." House smirked and zipped the bag most of the way shut. "I'll get you out when we're in the car."

To House's credit, he resisted the urge to swing or jolt the backpack unnecessarily as he left the building. He even avoided his 'peek into Cuddy's office to see what she's wearing for Friday night' ritual and made a beeline for his car. He set the bag down on the passenger seat and unzipped it.

"Remind me to febreeze this thing." Wilson clambered out of the bag, his nose crinkled.

"Sure." House sat and revved the engine. Wilson clamped his hands over his ears.

"That was really loud."

"Interesting. Your senses are becoming more sensitive." He jerked the car forward, tumbling Wilson into a sitting position.

"House, what the hell?!"

"Just testing your reflexes. You won't let me use the equipment at work, so I have to improvise." House grinned.

"If by 'have to' you mean 'have an insane compulsive need to', then yes, I can see your point." Wilson grumbled and wished he were tall enough to use the seatbelt. House's driving was iffy at the best of times--one of his favorite tricks was to swerve wildly when Wilson was least expecting it.

"I'm glad you agree." House smirked.

Wilson groaned and curled up in the seat. It made him feel a bit more stable.

-

House managed to get them home without crashing the car (a minor miracle in Wilson's opinion). He'd let Wilson walk back to the apartment, rather than stuff him into the backpack--nobody was around to see. House walked several paces behind him, watching as Wilson struggled over the few stairs leading to his door.

"This--this is ridiculous." Wilson puffed, leaning against the doorframe. "It's like hiking up a mountain."

"Well, you were trying to lose weight…" House smirked and unlocked the door.

"Don't remind me." Wilson scurried inside. He stopped and gaped for a moment.

"What now?" House limped past him.

"Everything is really, really big."

"And you're really, really slow on the uptake."

"I thought this place was huge earlier." Wilson murmured. "Now it's gigantic."

"That was ten inches ago." House reminded him. He dropped his bag on the floor. Wilson could feel the boards tremble under the weight. He hurried over to the couch, suddenly very keen on getting off the floor.

He hadn't taken in to account the level of the couch cushions. They too were out of his reach.

"Fantastic." He muttered under his breath.

"You're totally hopeless, you know that?" House lifted him onto the couch. "Haven't you ever seen a movie about this kind of thing?"

"You know I'm not a big sci-fi fan."

"You're not a big anything." House smirked.

"I guess not."

House went into the kitchen, leaving Wilson by himself on the enormous sofa. He remembered his earlier thoughts about being able to stretch out on it as much as he wanted, and shuddered. The couch was practically the size of a city bus. Maybe he'd sleep in House's reclining chair tonight--it wasn't much smaller, but it was better than nothing.

He picked up the two-by-four sized remote and managed to point it towards the TV. The set blared loudly. He quickly scrolled the volume down, almost to mute.

'House was right. My senses are getting more sensitive.'

The older man limped back in and sat down. He'd retrieved a few leftovers from the fridge. Wilson eyed the food warily. Even in the best of circumstances House's leftovers weren't particularly appetizing. Not to mention he'd never be able to finish anything.

Nonetheless, he nibbled half-heartedly at the quarter-section of burger House handed him. The food tasted alright, but the textures were all wrong. Gritty, somehow. And harder to chew.

House didn't notice Wilson's difficulties. Or, if he did, he didn't react to them. They actually managed to pass a few hours with no remarks, other than House's comments on the relative sexiness of whatever actress wandered onscreen.

"Alright." House clicked the TV off suddenly. "Time for another go with the measuring tape."

"Just estimate by the time."

"Nope--I already told you, I'm keeping a detailed log of everything that happens. No estimations allowed. Hold still."

"Why?" Wilson got to his feet.

"Because I don't want to hurt you when I'm doing this." House replied as he coiled his fingers around Wilson's torso.

"House, don't, just bring the tape to me!" Wilson's shouts went unheeded as House lifted him from the couch. "House, stop!"

"It's easier than me limping back and forth all the time." House grumbled. He stood up and shuffled towards the kitchen. He kept his grip firm. Wilson had gone ridged. "You're probably ready for ken-doll cloths now."

He placed Wilson on the kitchen counter. He stumbled a few steps, then leaned back against the wall.

"I didn't even realize I'd gotten this small."

"How did you not realize? Are you blind?" House demanded as he picked the tape up.

Wilson groaned under his breath. "We've been sitting on the couch for hours--I didn't have a frame of reference. And that's the first time you've been able to pick me up with one hand."

"You'd last about 5 minutes in diagnostics with those observation skills." House stretched the tape out. "12 inches."

Wilson's shoulders sagged. "You were right. I am the size of a Ken doll."

"You're a little bigger than that." House picked up the pack of doll clothes and tore it open. "Anything here appeal to you?"

Wilson wordlessly picked out the jeans and polo shirt and got changed. The clothes were a little snug, but that wouldn't last. House picked him back up (perhaps a tad more gently than before) and carried him back to the couch.

"If you're going to cry or have a nervous break down, I'll be happy to let you do it privately." House didn't look at him as he said this.

Wilson shook his head. "I'll be fine, I guess. I just need to get used to the idea of relying on you for everything for the next few days. At least."

"I'm not that unreliable."

"It's not that."

House didn't reply, but switched the TV back on. It was going to be a long night.

-

To be continued...


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Ten.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

By the time Wilson fell asleep, his clothes were coming loose. House hadn't bothered him for another measurement, but he was probably about 10 inches high.

Wilson was sleeping fitfully on the large pillow that was serving as his bed. He hadn't woken, but he was clearly having some hellacious nightmares. House didn't rouse him from them--he wouldn't remember them in the morning if he slept through it.

House cast a lingering look on his friend. Something about letting him sleep on the couch didn't seem right. It was safe enough--probably. Wilson wasn't likely to roll off and plunge to the hardwood floor no matter how bad his nightmares got.

A thought occurred to the older man. Suppose Wilson actually achieved the 1/4 inch height? If he was still on the couch House would have a hell of a time finding him in the morning. Methodically searching for Wilson with a magnifying glass was not how he wanted to spend the next day. Not to mention it would probably leave Wilson mentally scarred.

'I'll have to move him.' House sighed quietly. The quickest way would be to move the whole pillow, but it would jar Wilson when he walked. He'd just have to pick him up. House carefully slid his hands under Wilson and got up, keeping him horizontal as he walked. He tried to quell his limp as much as possible as he headed into the bedroom. Wilson didn't wake up, but his nightmare finally seemed to subside.

The question now was where could he put Wilson? House scanned the room quickly, but due to his gender, no childhood dollhouses or anything else usable magically appeared. He settled on laying Wilson down in a clean sweater on his dresser. Wilson made a small noise, but didn't wake up.

As an afterthought, House threw a handkerchief over him before settling into bed.

-

_Why was it that when you were being chased in nightmares, you couldn't run properly? Either the ground turned to glue, or the scenery refused to move in treadmill-esq. fashion. Or in Wilson's case, his legs simply didn't work right. He was barely even speed walking._

_He knew it was a nightmare, but that didn't stop him from moving forwards. He didn't even know what he was running from at this point, only that it was utterly immense. The ground was shaking under his feet. It was a dirt path. He was surrounded by mutated-looking trees of strange colors._

_A sprawling root leapt up from the path and wrapped around him. He went sprawling into the dirt. Trapped, he found his gaze turning back to whatever was after him._

_He didn't immediately recognize the creature that burst out of the darkness. No fangs, now claws--it looked more like a gelatinous blob with smaller blobs within it. It advanced slowly towards him, making little sucking sounds as it travels over the landscape._

_Just as the creature reached his legs, Wilson realized it was a amoeba, probably no more than a few micrometers in size._

-

This dream was already gone when Wilson awoke, thankfully. He had other problems to worry about.

Specifically, where was he?

Rising around him were piles of dull brown, rough fabric. Above, something white-ish--it didn't look like anything he could recognize. Wilson was basically walled in by it. It was like being in a well. He tried to scale one of the 'walls', but the material bent from his weight. His Ken-doll clothes seemed to have vanished.

His heart began to thud in panic. Was he still on the couch? Had he sunk into the fibers somehow? Or (Wilson shuddered at this) had he become so small that he had slipped through the material's weave?

Wilson hid his face in his hands. How was it possible to get so small that you didn't even know where you were?

'House will figure it out.' He thought tiredly. Not that that meant House would actually find him. If he was that small he'd probably be found and devouered by a carpet-mite long before House could begin searching for him.

"House?" He called experimentally. It wouldn't do any good, he realized--the cloth would absorb the sound.

It was morning, since light was filtering through the whiteness above him. It must have been some sort of cloth as well.

'I've got to do something.' Wilson got up. He tugged on one of the cloth walls, wondering if he could bring it down. The fabric moved easily enough.

A loud thump startled him. He let go of the cloth. The walls around him didn't move, but he could feel minute vibrations under his feet. Whatever was making that noise, it was getting closer.

"**Wilson**?"

The cloth absorbed some of the volume, but Wilson still clamped both hands firmly over his ears. House's voice was booming and distorted. Wilson could only attribute this to the size of his eardrums--everything was going to sound funny.

"HOUSE!" He gave the loudest yell he could.

The irregular thumps came to a stop. The whiteness above him was suddenly pulled away to reveal...more whiteness. Wilson frowned in confusion until House's face popped in to view. It was like looking at an Imax screen.

"**Well, that explains why you sound like you've been breathing helium**." House looked amused.

"It's not funny!" Wilson shouted. "Where am I?"

"**You're in my sweater. You must have sunk into it a little before you got this small**." A massive hand obscured his view of House before closing around him. Wilson felt his stomach drop as House picked him up. When the wall of flesh receded he found himself sitting in House's ginormic hand. They were in his bedroom.

"How did I get here?"

"**I didn't want to leave you on the couch**." House explained. He held the tape measurer in his other hand. "**The good news is, you're at least an inch tall**."

"For now."

"**No. It's nine in the morning. You would have been this size earlier that that**."

"Then it's stopped." Wilson would have dropped from the shock of relief if he'd been standing. "This is as small as I'll get."

"**Yep. Now get up so I can measure you**."

Wilson leapt to his feet. House suddenly turned his head uncomfortably. He grabbed a large handkerchief off the table (easily the size of a comforter) and tossed it over Wilson.

"**Far too much nakedness**."

Wilson took a moment to push the cloth aside. It was rumpled in front of him, saving House from another look. "Mature."

"**What**?"

"I said _Mature_!"

"**It's hard to make out what you're saying, even when you yell**." House shrugged. He unrolled the tape. The two inch mark wavered just above his eye line.

"Two inches? That's it?" Wilson stared in amazement.

"**It means we can change you back. What are you complaining about**?"

"The fact that I'm this size is still worth complaining about!" Wilson shouted again.

"**Calm down Thumbelina. You'll be on your way to normal size soon**." House rolled his eyes. He grabbed his cane with his free hand and limped down the hall.

"They don't make doll clothes this size, do they?" Wilson asked.

"**You'll have to make due with the stuff I bought for Ken's little brother 'Tommy'. He's about 4 inches high, so I think a tee-shirt should cover you."**

"I guess that's not so bad."

Wilson felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably as House set him on the kitchen counter. It wasn't just the enormity of his surroundings. The humming of the refrigerator was migraine-inducingly loud. A nearby bowl of withered looking bananas was giving off an overpowering sent.

Wilson found himself wishing that House hadn't set him down. It had been weird, but he'd felt safer.

House thumped the clothing pack down in front of him, making Wilson's legs tremble from the waves of shock.

"**First we cure the nudity, then we'll work on everything else**." House rumbled.

-

To be continued...


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Eleven.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

"I've got to drink all that?" Wilson stared dumbly at the virtual lake of antidote before him. It was a tablespoon, but at his scale it would be impossible to finish in one dose.

"You can do it in stages. It'll be easier after the first sip kicks in and you get a few inches back." House reasoned. He'd given Wilson a few fibers off a cotton ball for a makeshift set of earplugs, so his voice was nearly normal-sounding to the younger man.

"That'll still take hours."

"Keep complaining. I can drag this out for _days_."

"You're willing to deal with me in this state for days?"

"I'll just stick you in Steve's old cage and feed you pellets now and then." House said.

"Remind me to throw that thing out."

"Just scoop up a drop and drink it."

Wilson did so. The antidote was black in color, but tasted faintly medicinal.

House had gotten a syringe and loaded the needle with the rest of the dose once Wilson was done drinking. It would be easier to keep track that way.

Wilson managed not to cry out in surprise when House scooped him back up. "You need to cut that out."

"Hey, if the instructions are correct, I only have a few hours where I can still do this to you." House replied. "I'm not going to miss my only chance to torment my shrunken best friend."

"Yeah. I want all of the tonic back when this is over so I can dispose of it properly."

"Do you actually think I'd dose you with that stuff?"

"Yes. I'm actually surprised you didn't dump it into your office's coffeepot on Friday and let your fellows drink it."

"Hmm. Mini-fellows. Of course, with Taub it'd be hard to tell if it was working…"

"House."

"I'm not about to go and randomly experiment with this stuff. Despite what everyone seems to think, I don't cause chaos for chaos' sake. I'm not the Joker." During this House had limped back into his bedroom. "I'm going to get dressed."

"Are you going out?"

"I've got to pick up some things." House set Wilson on the dresser. "You can come, if you want."

"I'll stay here. I have no interest in spending an hour in your pocket." Wilson shook his head.

"You don't know what you're missing." House shrugged. "I'll put you on the couch before I go."

"Fine."

House grabbed a pile of clean clothes off the dresser and limped into the washroom. Wilson, having long grown sick of staring at the oversized objects all around him, scanned the dresser for a place to sit. The sweater he'd slept in was still there, but the memory of being lost in it's folds made it an unattractive prospect. Nothing else remotely soft was on the dresser however, so it was the sweater or nothing. Trying to compromise with the dread in the pit of his stomach, Wilson sat near the edge of the material. Some of the fabric was actually hanging off the dresser entirely. He peeked over the edge.

The drop to the floor looked like the grand canyon. Or, at least a real good canyon.

Wilson wasn't afraid of heights, but the idea of a four-foot drop that could kill him was more than making up for the lack of phobia.

'Why couldn't House just leave me on the couch?' He thought while trying to move away from the edge.

The slip wasn't inevitable, it was merely bad luck, something Wilson had in abundance as of late. The slick wood of the dresser and the worn fibers of the sweater made for a perfect sliding board. Wilson decided later that his weight must have been the proverbial straw that sent the sweater sliding off, despite the fact that he only weighed an ounce or so at the time. He was also sure that some vast universal power must have considered this to be irony of the highest class, since it was weight-loss that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

Wilson didn't really see what was happening until it was over. He'd felt the earth (the sweater) under him shift, then everything was whirling brown linen until the bundle hit the floor with a FWHUMPH.

Some part of him was unsurprised that he'd remained unharmed. The sweater had made for an excellent cushion, and the physics involved with his new size had taken care of the rest. Aside from a few bruises he was fine.

"Maybe I will go with House." He murmured bemusedly once he'd gotten his breath back. Somehow being by himself was leading to more trouble than being with House. He'd see the sweater on the floor when he came back and probably make him go anyway.

On this cue, House limped back from the washroom. Wilson shook terribly as the waves of shock traveled through the floor.

"Hey, House!" He cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled. House would see the sweater in a minute, so it wouldn't really matter. "I'm down he--"

Wilson's yell became a cry of terror as he was forced to dive aside. House's cane stabbed down on the spot where he'd been standing a split second later. Too late Wilson tried to turn his move into a roll, and bashed his shoulder onto the hardwood floor.

"What the hell?" House finally noticed the crumpled fabric at his feet. "Oh…FUCK. Wilson?"

The diagnostician dropped to his knees (being careful not to land on the fabric), and tossed the cane aside. He began digging through the folds of the garment frantically. "Wilson?!"

"Over here!"

The cry had been loud enough; House's eyes went to him. His face had gone deathly pale. Wilson standing almost underneath the dresser and was cradling his left arm.

"What the hell happened?!" House demanded.

"The sweater took me over the edge, and then you nearly squished me with your cane."

"Shit. I didn't even see it." A flicker of guilt passed over House's face.

"I know."

Carefully, House picked Wilson up. "Is your arm broken?"

"No. Just a dislocated shoulder." Wilson shook his head. He sat in the center of House's hand.

"From the fall?"

"From getting out of your way." Wilson rubbed his shoulder lightly. "Can you pop it back in?"

"I could tear your whole arm off if I pulled too hard." House shook his head. "I'll try once the antidote kicks in and you get a few inches back."

"House, please, I can't wait that long." Wilson swallowed against the pain. Now that the shock was wearing off, the injury was setting in something fierce. "Just try."

"Wilson--"

"Just once, alright? If it doesn't work, I'll wait." He pleaded.

House sighed. "Aright. One try."

House took Wilson's arm between his index finger and his thumb. It felt like a twig. That was unsurprising: The bone was about the size of a spaghetti strand. If he used to much pressure he could shatter it.

With the slightest motion, he tugged the limb. Wilson cried out as the bones slid back into place with a faint pop. House let go instantly.

"Thank you." Wilson managed as the throbbing began to die down.

House just shook his head. "It shouldn't have happened at all."

Wilson couldn't find an appropriate reply. He simply leaned against House's fingers and waited for the pain to fade.

-

To be continued...


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Twelve.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

"I think this is a bad idea."

"Coming from you that's pretty scary." Wilson replied. He was still in House's hand, but now his left arm was bound up. House had made a makeshift sling out of a band-aid so Wilson's injured limb could rest. "But not scary enough to keep me here by myself."

"Okay, but I will gleefully say 'I told you so' when something bad happens." House carefully placed Wilson in his shirt pocket.

"Duly noted."

Wilson had insisted that House go on his errands, and House had insisted on not leaving Wilson by himself after the near-death experience. He hadn't wanted to take Wilson along either, but they'd reached an impasse. House had settled on placing Wilson in a pocket that was immediately accessible to him, and thoroughly checked for holes. Still, as he left the apartment, House found his hand straying towards the pocket to make sure Wilson was still there.

'Quit worrying about him. Nothing's going to happen.' He clipped the seat belt carefully, making sure it didn't go over the pocket holding Wilson. 'In an hour or two he won't be so fragile.'

House had made a very careful study of the antidote's instructions. It seemed to work at the same rate as the original tonic, or a tad faster depending on personal metabolism. That meant it would still take Wilson several days to get back to normal. He hadn't even finished the full dose yet, but there would be plenty of time for that later. The large drop he'd drank a scarce hour ago would probably be enough to start the process, anyway. They'd check his size again when they got home from the grocery store (House was usually loath to do his own cooking, but a lack of the most basic elements of meals in his house made him a tad nervous. Plus, he was sick of Wilson whining about eating fast-food).

'It's just easier this way.' He thought as he pulled onto the highway. 'Perfectly simple.'

-

"That loaf of bread is due to expire in a few days. Get one from further back."

"_How the hell can you tell?"_

"The letters are about a foot high."

"_I'm never shopping with you again."_ House hissed at his pocket. Once they'd arrived at the store Wilson had begun making 'helpful suggestions'. This had resulted in House buying exotic mushrooms, whole wheat flour, and a host of other useless items. Wilson could apparently see through the weave of the shirt, and his voice was too quiet for anyone but House to hear. It was a lot like having an imaginary friend, only more annoying than entertaining.

House had progressed from a tiny shopping basket to a gigantic shopping cart, leaving no hand free for the cane. Leaning on the handle was mitigating his limp somewhat, but the whole thing was getting out of hand. After grabbing another bag of bread he hurried to the dairy section. He was getting milk and leaving before Wilson nagged him in to buying Austrian goat placenta for homemade yogurt or something.

"Make sure you get skim. It's better for--"

"_I'm getting the WHOLE milk, and if you don't stop squeaking at me I'll grab one that's going to expire in two days and force-feed it to you."_ House growled as he grabbed the carton.

It was just about then that fate decided things had been a little too easy on the doctors as of late (Or so House suspected. After all, they'd gone nearly a whole hour without incident.).

Wilson groaned. Not his usual 'I'm-just-trying-to-help-you,-you-jerk' groan or his 'Why-do-I-even-bother?' groan. No, this groan was a variety of groan that House was unfamiliar with.

He took a stab at it anyway. _"Breakfast not sitting right?"_

"No…I'm pretty sure that's not it." Wilson murmured. His voice sounded different. "Just hurry up, okay?"

"Okay." House didn't bother to whisper as he made his way to the cashier. "I just need to pay."

This however, was held up by the morons in the 10 items or less line. House rolled his eyes and contemplated switching lines as the shopper in front of him argued about what constituted and 'item.' Finally, the cashier allowed the extra orange through, and House was able to move up.

Just as House handed over the check, Wilson groaned again. This was accompanied by a distinct tug on the pocket. The cashier blinked in a slightly confused manner at the noise, but took the check and waved him through.

"What the hell is going on?" House demanded as he hit the parking lot.

"I'm not exactly sure." Wilson replied unhelpfully. The strange vocal quality reminded.

House, world renowned diagnostician that he was, needed more than this to go on. As soon as he got to the car, he extracted Wilson from the pocket.

Wilson sat on his palm, a slightly dazed look on his face. He was at least six inches tall.

"…Okay, this is new." House murmured. "You've apparently tripled in size in the space of two minutes."

"I think I grew in two spurts." Wilson stripped off the now-too-small shirt and the ripped up band aid/sling. The doll pants were like shorts now, but seemed to fit okay.

"Did it hurt?"

"Not exactly, it was just weird." Wilson shook his head. "Did the directions say it was supposed to work like this?"

"Not remotely. You're supposed to grow at about the same rate you shrank."

Wilson groaned a more usual 'Why-does-this-always-happen-to-me?' groan and dropped his hand into his hands. "We've messed up the directions somehow, I know it."

"Let's go by the health store." House sighed and swung the bag of groceries into the car.

"Do you think they'll be able to help?"

"No, but I'm looking forward to kicking that clerk's ass." House replied. After a moment of deliberation set Wilson carefully on the passenger seat. "I don't want your amazing expanding frame to wreck my shirt."

"Glad to know you're so vested in my welfare." Wilson said dryly. "It'll be a comfort when I'm getting scraped off the windshield after you slam on the brakes."

"It's either sit there or sit in my lap."

"…I'm good."

-

To be continued...


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Thirteen.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

In the fifteen minutes it took to get to the store, House watched Wilson shoot up another two inches, leaving House open for all kinds of 'Eight Inch' jokes. The growth cycle seemed to be working erratically as well as too fast--not a good sign.

"I don't understand what we did wrong. The directions said to use the equivalent dose of antidote. I took one tablespoon of tonic--I haven't taken anything close to that antidote-wise." Wilson said.

"Unless they meant equivalent in scale." House's usual brilliant flash of inspiration finally showed up. "In which case, the drop you took about twice what you were supposed to take."

"That can't be it! No company would word directions so…badly…"

"…Just like they did the first time?" House asked sarcastically.

"Oh God, this is _not _happening."

"Yes, it is. And 'House' will do."

"If I ever get back to normal I'm never going to try and short-cut my way around a problem again."

"Does that include short-cutting around finding a woman willing to sleep with you, or is masturbation more of a necessity?"

Wilson responded to this with an intense glare. "This isn't funny. What if this stuff make me grow too fast and my heart ruptures?"

"You've been free of medical problems so far. I think you'll be fine."

"House, if you're right and I took such a huge overdose, I could wind up twelve feet tall. That is not 'fine.'"

"Do you prefer the size you are now? Because I could try giving you some of the tonic and see if it fixes you there."

"What I _want _is for this situation to be over." Wilson grumbled.

"Then you should be happy. With any luck this will make you grow back to normal size, and I can dose you with the tonic and stop it."

"…Do you think that would work?"

"That's what the clerk said would happen, remember? It's worth a try, especially since I can't think of another way to fix this." House shrugged.

House watched as Wilson groaned again and shot up to ten inches. It was really amazing to watch--although House got the distinct impression that he'd seen some cheesy sci-fi movie which employed a similar effect. Wilson didn't seem to be in pain when it happened, just freaked out.

"Here." House reached in to the glove compartment and pulled out one of the shirts Wilson had out-shrunk earlier. "It's too big, but your ken-doll clothes are at home."

Wilson donned the shirt. It hung on him like a blanket. "This is pathetic. I've been reduced to-"'

"Don't bother finishing, it's already hilarious." House snickered.

Wilson didn't finish.

-

House ended up carrying Wilson in to the store. Wilson was lying across one of House's arms. He was wrapped in the shirt as a sort of camouflage, but they needn't have bothered--the store was deserted. Tim, the clerk, was milling at the desk. He took a distinct look of horror on when he saw House approach.

"Um…Hello sir."

"Question." House thumped his cane on to the countertop. "If my idiotic friend accidentally overdosed on the antidote, would he become 'The Amazing Colossal Man' , or just die from a vital organ bursting open?"

"I-I don't think he'd be in any danger--" Tim stammered.

"That's all I needed to know." House cut him off.

"That is _not _all we need to know!" Wilson protested, blowing his cover. House set him on the counter.

Tim stared slack-jawed at the oncologist. "Oh! I…um…"

"We misunderstood the directions." Wilson muttered, his face slightly red. This was going to be awkward.

"_Again_?" Tim's hand slammed over his mouth a moment too late. He stared at House, ready for another verbal lashing.

"He took about twice the dose that would have put him at normal." House ignored the slip.

"Only because you told me to!" Wilson protested. He turned back to Tim. "We need to know if this can be fixed."

"Well, you'll be taller than normal when the growth stops, but a dose of the original tonic should easily restore your normal size if you wait it out. Or, you could try drinking some of the tonic when you hit your normal--"

"Okay, THAT'S all we needed to know." House scooped Wilson back up. "With any luck, this is the last time we'll see each other."

"Here's hoping." Tim muttered under his breath as House limped out. Wilson chuckled.

-

"If you want this to be over quicker, you'll drink more of the antidote."

"House, if I drink that and it makes me too tall we'll end up repeating the whole cycle." Wilson's hands were on his hips as he lectured. "Just because you OD on average once a year doesn't mean I have to."

They'd been at House's apartment for an hour. After the initial 'growth spurt' Wilson had (which had left him at 14 inches high), the growth seemed to stop entirely.

"It's probably just a lull. I don't want to end up a giant because you're impatient." Wilson was standing on the kitchen counter.

"Wuss." House dropped the bottle on to the counter, annoyed. Wilson could feel the vibrations, but they didn't knock him off his feet as they would have 12 inches ago.

"Good argument." Wilson said dryly. House shrugged and limped to the other side of the kitchen.

"Remember the last time we had an argument?"

"You mean about you being an asshole to that clerk?"

"Okay, obviously we have too many arguments to make this that simple." House turned around. He was holding the syringe he'd filled with antidote earlier. "You're going to do this because I'm still bigger than you."

"Oh, no. Not going to happen." Wilson darted to the other end of the counter and quickly realized he was trapped. "Damn it!"

"Either take a dose like a man or I'm injecting it in to your stomach."

"That needle is huge." Wilson blanched. "You'll rupture something with it."

"Not if you take one sip."

"…One sip?"

"That's all. We just need to jumpstart the process." House promised.

"Fuck." Wilson grumbled under his breath. "If it's between death from sepsis and that stuff, I guess I'll drink."

"I knew you'd see reason." House grinned.

"Just give me the damn dose."

House quickly portioned a few drops onto a spoon and handed it to Wilson. After he swallowed the draught House put the syringe away.

"See? That wasn't so bad."

"I guess--"

Wilson's statement was abruptly interrupted by something bashing the oncologist on the head. Startled, he stumbled forward. Stars blazed in his vision, but he felt something tumble as he stumbled past.

"What the hell hit me?!"

"…The ceiling." House choked out as Wilson's vision cleared. His perspective had gone from mere inches above the countertop to just below the 8-foot ceiling in House's kitchen.

House was staring up at him, his expression a mix of fascination and amazement.

"I have _got _to try this stuff."

-

To be Continued...


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Dr. Strangesize or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Write More Crack!fic, Chapter Fourteen.

By: GirlX2

Rating: PG-13 for language

Summary: Wilson should really should have known better. Herbal remedies don't mix well with new-age shops and weight-loss products.

A/N: Born of my efforts to produce non-angsty fic, and stick to my usual plotline without repeating myself. Enjoy. :)

-

"Oh my _God_, oh my _God_, oh my _**GOD**_--"

"Your God is busy waiting for the sun to go down." House interrupted his hysterical friend. "Calm down."

"I knew this would happen!" Wilson moaned, sinking to the floor.

The floor cabinets dug painfully into his back. He pulled his legs toward his chest, since they were almost long enough to reach the opposite wall otherwise. The table he'd stumbled into moments ago lay askew on the floor. It seemed to be the size of a child's play table. Wilson reached over and righted it easily, almost as an afterthought. House watched quietly, apparently impressed.

"My luck can't be this bad. It can't!"

"Apparently it can." House replied. "Just be glad we're on the ground floor--you might have gone _through _the floor otherwise."

Wilson buried his face in his hands. "You've turned me into '_André the Giant'_. I don't believe this.

"You're nowhere near as cool as _André_." House scoffed. "And he was only seven feet tall. You're at least eight."

Wilson felt something light fall across his lap. House had tossed a blanket onto him (the doll clothes were probably ripped to shreds somewhere).

"What is it with you and being naked?"

"House. Fix it. **NOW**." The last syllable rumbled loudly. House actually looked a little worried.

"I think we should wait a little while."

"_**WHAT**_?!"

"In case you're not done growing. If the cycle isn't complete and we try to get you back to normal, you'll be stuck at this size." House shrugged. "Not that that wouldn't be awesome as hell."

"You think this will get worse?"

"Depends on what you consider worse. Most people would kill to be tall."

"Being tall is not the same as being a gigantic freak!"

"Tell that to a Dwarf."

Wilson groaned. He stood up very carefully and tried not to bash his head on the ceiling again. He wrapped the blanket around his waist, making a makeshift kilt.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going into the living room." Wilson ducked through the doorway. He tried to tread lightly, but his footfalls were still making a lot of noise. "The ceiling is higher in here."

House watched as Wilson carefully moved his couch, the end table and the piano to the edges of the room. "You're putting all that back later."

Wilson just rolled his eyes.

House limped around him in a complete circle. "Still feel okay?"

"Aside from a mild case of vertigo." Wilson muttered sarcastically.

"Most humans your size are sickly. Heart problems, joint problems--apparently the medicine counteracts all that. Very interesting."

"You're running a diagnostic analysis on me?!"

"How many times do I have to say 'detailed log' before it gets through?" House replied.

Both men heard a faint, but audible, rumbling before Wilson's head struck the ceiling again.

"Ow! Sonofa--"

"Cool!" House exclaimed. "It was only a 1/8 gain, but its still going. Awesome."

"Not awesome." Wilson, now unable to stand up straight, sat down gingerly. "I'm going to be trapped in here if I get any taller."

"I'm not sure you'd make it out now." House told him. "But we could break a window."

"Yeah. The nine-foot tall man walking down the street will go unnoticed." Wilson sighed. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh stop moping--it's not so bad. You're a lot safer this size than you were tiny." House pointed out. "And this can't last too much longer--your spurts are already dying down."

As if to refute this, there was another rumble and a spurt. Even though he was sitting, Wilson's eye line was now easily that of his normal height. That probably put him at eleven feet tall.

"…Or not."

"House, we've got to figure out a way to stop this!" _There _was the panic he'd been enjoying so much lately, back with a vengeance.

"What do you think I've been trying to do?!" House replied. He looked worried, which set another round of panic free. House NEVER looked worried.

"Okay…we need something that won't interact with the chemicals already in your system, and let another dose of the original tonic work." House began to pace, but stopped at Wilson's outstretched leg. "Seeing as we have no idea what's in the antidote or the tonic, and no access to lab equipment this may be a _wee _bit of a challenge."

Wilson placed one hand over his eyes tiredly. "Just give me the tonic, House."

"And freeze you this way? I don't think so. You're a little old to join the NBA."

"If I get any taller I'm going to go through the roof!"

"You've got three or four more feet before that happens. Relax."

"House." Wilson pointed one massive finger at the other man. "You got me in to this mess."

"Hey, I wasn't the one obsessed with your weight."

"No, but I was willing to wait for the original dose of antidote to finish!"

"…Okay, that's true." House admitted. Sighing, he limped back into the kitchen. Wilson blinked in surprise as House returned, tonic in hand.

"If you're really sure about this, I'll give it to you." House said quietly. "But if you're trapped this way for the rest of your life, you'd better not squish me in a fit of rage."

"Promise." Wilson said dryly.

"Okay then." House uncapped the bottle, held up the ladle and proceeded to splash the liquid all over Wilson's body.

"Augh! House, what the **hell **are you doing?!" Wilson roared.

"Testing a theory." House murmured watching him closely.

"You're inane."

"Nope."

Wilson yelped in surprise as everything around him suddenly rose up dramatically. In a matter of moments House went from looking up at him to towering over him (due in the most part to Wilson still sitting down). He was smirking.

"Wh-what happened?" Wilson gasped, although he had a pretty good theory already.

"You shrank. My idea worked." House murmured.

"What idea?!"

"Spilling the chemical on you gets the same effect as drinking it. Plus this bypasses the chemicals already in your system, since you didn't drink it."

"…Wow. That makes almost no sense."

"And yet, it does."

Wilson took a careful look at his surrounding before getting to his feet. "I think I'm back to normal."

His glee was short lived however--upon standing, Wilson found he was still missing about six inches.

"Damnit."

"Eh. Close enough." House remarked.

" 'Close enough'?" Wilson repeated, bewildered.

"You're _practically _back to normal. Why tamper with that?" House smirked.

"We've got to fix this." Wilson protested. "People will notice me suddenly being short."

"So? What are they going to do, get Cuddy to fire you for being a shrimp?"

"I'm not spending the rest of my life this was." Wilson's hands went to his hips. "Just give me a tiny bit of the antidote, and that should get me back to normal."

"I don't know. There are definite advantages to having a travel-sized oncologist: easier storage, cheaper feeding costs, and invaluable entertainment. Why should I give that up?" House teased.

"_House_..."

Fine, spoilsport. Kill my dream." House held out the bottle of antidote. He snatched it back playfully and held it over Wilson's head when Wilson grabbed for it. "Care to jump for it?"

"Are you seriously five years old?" Wilson groaned.

"If I am, I'm very tall for my age. Unlike _you_..."

Wilson, apparently too exhausted to play this game, sat on the couch. "When you're ready to act like a decent human being and give me the antidote, I'll be right here."

House smiled and limped over to join him. "Relax Wilson. When I'm absolutely sure your system is clear I'll give you another dose."

"And when exactly will that be?"

"Approximately when your shortness stops amusing me."

"So a year or two." Wilson said dryly.

"Maybe three--I've only used about two of my short jokes on Taub." House shrugged.

"Right. Next time something insane and debilitating happens to me, remind me to ask Cuddy for help." Wilson said. "And I still want all of the remaining tonic and antidote back when this is over."

"I'm not going to dose anyone with it!"

"Then give it back."

"Make me, Ant-Man."

Wilson groaned a usual 'Why-am-I-friends-with-this-man? groan', and House grinned. Things were back to what passed for normal in their screwed-up little world.

"And I want the photos too."

Yep. Completely normal.

-

The following Monday, several nurses remarked on doctor Wilson's apparently miraculous weekend weight loss--his clothes were definitely loose. A few even approached him to find out what his secret was, but were only answered with groans and half-muttered explanations before the doctor fled.

It was eventually attributed to metabolism. Men have all the luck.

-

Fin


End file.
